light and hollow like an emptied egg shell. it feels quiet inside. nothing to power it forth or to hold still a substance. what is hidden is nothingness and yet it still feels compelled to conceal. the illusion of substance. the potential. the hope.

like a wound toy, i am beneath your hands being turned. mechanically i function as you tightly wind then release. i spin for a minute, moving a few inches before stopping. you are amused for a time then bored by my stillness. i am simply the over manufactured model with all the promised parts.

it wouldn't make a difference if i was made here or in china. it wouldn't matter if i was wired differently. as long as you could wind me, and release me..as long as i could appear to move alone, even a moment, even an instant.